


Katie's Graduation Present

by auroraphilealis (thousandrosepetals)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoption, M/M, Military, Military Reunion, Parent Phan, parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thousandrosepetals/pseuds/auroraphilealis
Summary: Phil Lester has missed the majority of his daughter's high school years because he’s spent the last four years in the military. When Dan finds out he’s going to miss her graduation, too, he throws a fit, and doesn’t even say “I love you,” before hanging up on him. So who's the military guy in blue at the bottom of the bleachers?





	Katie's Graduation Present

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.
> 
> I may have spent a good portion of the morning watching military reunion videos and I cried so hard I wrote a fic with my tears.

It’s their daughter's graduation, and Phil’s not here.

He’s out of the country doing God knows what, who knows where, because his commander never lets Phil reveal very much of anything at all to his family in the few minute webcam calls they get about once a month, and his letters are screened within an inch of their life and stamped with military approval before they even _reach_ Dan and Katie. They never know where he is, or what he’s doing, only that sometimes he’s safe and sometimes he’s not but so far, he’s always made it out alive.

He’d promised to make it to Katie’s graduation, but they’d both known better to get their hopes up. Still… it had been a bitter pill for them to swallow when they’d received word that Phil wouldn’t be able to get leave in time to watch their daughter walk down the stage, but it was harder still to see the devastation on Phil’s face when he’d been forced to deliver the news.

Dan will never forget the crease of pain in his forehead, the way his lips had been downturned, clear even over the shitty webcam graphics. His voice had been heartbroken as he’d been forced to let Katie down _again_ , and he’d promised to make it up to her the next time he got a chance to visit, but they all knew it wouldn’t quite be the same.

Katie had been stronger than Dan. She’d smiled, and reassured Phil that it was okay, she understood, and she’d see him soon. She joked, and teased her father for the rest of the call, and then, after she’d left, Phil had been left to face Dan’s wrath.

It’s not something Dan’s proud of, the way he’d spoken to his husband with harsh, muttered words, his own heart breaking with each sentence that left his mouth, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. Phil was meant to be nearly done with his service, let go to return to a life of normalcy with his family, and yet his commander _still_ had a tight lead on his neck keeping him from going where he needed to be, celebrating the once in a life-time moments that none of them were ever going to get back.

Dan had told Phil it was fine that he’d missed four years worth of anniversaries, fine that he’d only managed one Christmas, two birthdays, and a Valentine's day in all the months he’d been gone, but how _dare_ he miss their daughters Graduation? Why hadn’t he fought, insisted that he get to go home, even for just one day, a few hours at most?

Dan had cried, and he’d shut the laptop on Phil’s face for the first time in four years, stifling the sounds of his cries behind his hand and secretly hating himself for cutting short one of the very few phone calls he ever got with his husband these days. He hadn’t even told Phil he loved him, and as the realization had dawned on him, he’d cried even harder, wishing and praying to a God he didn’t believe in that Phil wouldn’t die before Dan got to say those words just _one_ more time.

His fingers had scrabbled for his laptop lid, but he’d known even before he’d opened it that the connection would be lost.

That had been a week ago.

Now, Dan sits proud in the bleachers of his daughter’s high school graduation, camera held high in his hands, and the seat next to him blatantly empty with a small little note card sat on the seat stating _reserved_.

Dan had been oh so carefully avoiding looking at it for ages, now. He’d reserved the seats over two months ago, one for him, and one for his long-lost husband, thinking that for once, Phil might actually make it to the event he’d promised to attend. Of course, now the sight of the little card leaves a horrid, bitter taste on Dan’s tongue, and he wants nothing more than to toss it away, to offer up the seat to someone standing on the sidelines, but he _can’t_.

He can’t because that would only hurt him even more.

So Dan sits alone with his camera raised high, grinning like a loon as he watches his daughter creep along the line, last name howell-lester, and she’s coming up now. Dan can see the smile dotting her features, the excitement in her eyes, can see the way she wrings her hands in her graduation gown, glasses sitting askew, and all he can think is that he wished Phil could be here to see her now.

She’s beautiful, their little Katie Rose. With red hair, and brown eyes, she’s almost the by-product of her parents, and though she was adopted when she was but a small child, she’s been given nothing but more love than Dan had ever known he was capable of.

She’s been their sunshine from the moment they picked her up fourteen years ago. She’d been so tiny, then, far too slim and dressed in clothes that didn’t quite fit. In her hands had been a teddy bear, raggedy as the rest of her, and yet she’d been so _cute_ even then that Dan had fallen instantly in love.

Her hair is longer now, but Dan can still the way she’d looked with knots in her hair and it pulled back against her scalp, a mess of curls that didn’t quite fall right and never seemed to get brushed out. She’d been frowning, even as Dan and Phil had each taken of her hands in each of theirs, introducing themselves properly this time, as Papa and Dad.

It had been a little rough, her warming up to them, but now, as Dan takes photo after photo of his daughter, long grown, all he can see is her smile and the way she cries some nights because she misses Papa so much. Dan can never blame her, digging out the photo albums and the stories of the time she’d thrown a wooden block so hard at Phil that he’d cried, heartbroken because their daughter hated him.

Katie always fills in the blanks for Dan, how she watched Phil have a break down and expected them to send her away, but they hadn’t. They never did, and Phil merely cried because his daughter didn’t love him and he didn’t know how to make it all better.

She’d been a slight bit kinder after that, and the first time she called Phil “Papa,” he’d cried again.

Dan wishes Phil were here now, more than anything in the world. He can feel the ache in his heart at the missing man at his side, knows the real reason he’d been so angry at Phil a week ago. He just hadn’t wanted his best friend to miss another one of their daughters biggest moments, when there had been a time where Phil wouldn’t have dared to miss even one.

Dan knows that’s not fair, but it’s hard when they both fought so hard to win Katie over, and now… now Phil can’t even see the brilliant woman that she’s become.

He shakes his head, because the lines moving forward now, and he can see his little girl just three people away, and --

Something’s wrong.

Dan watches as Katie goes from smiling brightly out into the crowd, so clearly looking for Dan who’d been waving at her for ages trying to get her attention focused on him, to staring in blank horror below the bleachers, somewhere Dan can’t quite seem to locate.

His heart stops. He doesn’t understand. His little girl’s hands are covering her mouth, and she’s sobbing now. The entire auditorium has gone quiet, and is it just Dan, or does it feel grim?

There’s a flash of military garb, something Dan doesn’t recognize as belonging in the stadium, and his heart clenches in dread as the fear hits him.

The colors aren’t the green of a military uniform, they’re blue, someone retired, someone delivering _news_.

Dan’s blood runs cold as he remembers the fact that he hadn’t said _“i love you_ ,” the last time he spoke to Phil, as he remembers the way Phil had said “important mission, the most important of my career,” remembers the way Phil had looked on the verge of tears, _almost scared_ , and he drops his camera to the floor at the same time as Katie starts running.

She’s running, and there are tears dripping down his face, Dan can see that much. Her robes billow out around her, her hat going flying, the auditorium erupts into such loud noise that Dan’s ears ring. Katie’s arms are outstretched, she’s flying at this person that Dan doesn’t even know, and he doesn’t _understand_.

Is Phil dead? Have his worst fears been realized? Why is Katie running, what is she doing, why are people screaming his name?

“Welcome home, Mr. Howell-Lester,” Dan hears through the buzz in his ears, and his heart nearly shatters as he starts to cry.

Katie throws herself into the man’s arms, and he picks her up with such ease that Dan can’t imagine it being anyone _but_ Phil, twirling her around as she clutches at him, their faces tucked into each other’s neck so Dan can’t _see_ , but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because the people around him are slapping his shoulder, ushering him down the aisle, shouting his name and clapping so hard that it’s all just a roar inside of Dan’s head.

He’s crying, he can feel it. There are tears rushing down his face, a sob locked in his throat, and he starts running. He starts running because he hasn’t seen Phil in months, because for _one second_ he’d been convinced his Phil was _dead_ , because Mr. Howell-Lester has finally gone home, and Dan doesn’t know when he’ll ever get the chance to see him again.

Dan doesn’t know how it happens. One second, he’s trying not to fall as he runs blindly down the bleachers, and the next, he’s in Phil’s arms and his best friend, his husband, his partner for the rest of his life, is holding him so close that Dan can’t even breathe.

Katie is sobbing in front of them. Dan can hear her. She’s a mess, a happy, bubbly mess, and Dan’s sobbing even harder than her, his arms curled tight to the fabric of Phil’s uniform, his face shoved into his husbands neck, eyes squeezed shut, just taking him _in_.

Phil smells as he always has, something unidentifiably _him_ , mixed with the sterile scent of the military, but Dan doesn’t _care_ because Phil is here and that’s all that matters anymore.

He clutches tight to him because he can, because he doesn’t know what else do to with himself, and whispers, “I’m never letting you go again,” in a voice so choked with emotion Dan has no idea how Phil could even begin to possibly hear him.

“You never have to,” Phil whispers back to him, and that’s the _world_.


End file.
